A year ago I bought a pig. I called him Bacon. My intentions were purely evil. Get a pig, fatten him, kill him, eat him. My plan was simple, what I didn’t envisage was that I would become attached to Bacon.

Despite the name signalling my evil intentions, naming Bacon was the start of my emotional attachment. When I had friends over I would introduce them to Bacon. Everyone knew Bacon by name, his weight was a common topic of conversation.

Life threw me a curve ball when my two year relationship broke down. Bacon’s shoulder was the only one to cry on. For hours I talked to Bacon, and my appreciation for Bacon grew. I began to buy Bacon high quality food and began to hand feed it to him while I talked. Bacon never spoke, but I know he enjoyed the food.

Bacon slowly became more than a meal. He became a pet, and then a friend. But the friends that disappeared a few months earlier soon remembered Bacon’s purpose. Plans for an execution and meal began. I was instructed to feed Bacon honey and rosemary, they wanted honey and rosemary flavoured bacon.

Bacon liked the honey, but he refused to eat the rosemary, I just sprinkled it on top of him instead. My year with Bacon focused on one meal, and now I’m not sure if I can prepare that meal…